Don't Drink and Blog

Drinking and blogging. It's probably right up there with calling ex-girlfriends or anybody after bar time for that matter. It’s something you know is wrong but you do anyway. Well I had one too many Jager bombs tonight and do not anticipate going to bed anytime soon and there are only reruns of Entourage on the tube right now so here I am. Thank God I have a spell checker right now to make this mess even possible.

Let’s talk about my weekend. In particular, I would like to talk about Friday night.

There is nothing better than kicking back on a Friday after a long hard day of work. I was in a pretty chill mood so when an old friend asked me to meet up with her and some of her friends at the Blue Velvet, I was really excited. Get dressed up a little, sip a few martinis, engage in some sophisticated conversation; I couldn’t have asked for a better way to start the weekend.

Well after about 10 minutes of exchanging pleasantries, the conversation quickly turned for the worse. Apparently, the people in this group wanted to talk about new vibrator technology. I am almost positive that I was NOT the one that brought this up. In any case, I got a crash course on the finer points of what’s cool and not cool in the world of battery operated man parts. It was awkward. I never want to hear the following sentences ever again:

“The rabbit has a nub now instead of ears!”

and

“It’s like a bullet only a lot bigger!”

I’m pretty sure the girl who said that last statement has never seen a real bullet in her entire life. That’s fine, though. I was actually starting to think to myself, Damn! I can compete with that!” But then I got to thinking, what if she was referring to can of Coors Light. Once again, my logic has placed me into an uncomfortable situation. Curse the man that first filtered the majestic streams of the Rocky Mountains to give us the crisp, refreshing banquet of beer known as Coors Light. Those Silver Bullets are tasty but now I’m going to have to add them to my on-going list of things that really intimidate me.

I jest that the conversation was weird but it pales in comparison to what transpired later. I can only describe the precarious situation I got myself into football terms because that’s how my thought process works. THAT and Simpsons analogies, but’s that’s neither here nor there. So let’s make this easy for everyone and pretend that every man is a running back and messing around is scoring a touchdown. In this universe, I am a strong runner and know a few moves, but I tend to fumble. A lot. Kind of like Ahman Green.

But Ahman Green never fumbled in a Super Bowl which is what happened last night only worse. I was making steady gains throughout the game, a few setbacks here and there, and some bad play calling in the fourth quarter, but nevertheless still in the game. I think I was wearing the defense down though because towards the end of the night, I had a clear shot at the endzone. But I ran out of bounds near the goal line! It does not matter how good of a player you are, ANYBODY can fumble at ANY given time, but it takes a true DUFUS to run out of bounds with no time on the clock. I wish I could remember what I was thinking at the time. Did I think I had time for another play? Did I actually WANT to lose on purpose, thinking the chase for another Super Bowl was more important than actually winning? Or did I simply just run out of steam? I honestly don’t know and I am really pissed at myself. I think the opposing team is pissed at me too or more likely, just really confused. I don’t blame her.

And just like the Super Bowl, a crack at the title only comes around about once a year for me so that really blows too. Well, at least I have my Vegas trip coming up next weekend. I’m sure there will plenty of opportunities for me to bumble an exhibition game or two…